


Love Triangle? Gross.

by countrygirlsfun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Arguing, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Based on a Tumblr Post, Deputy Jordan Parrish, Established Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, Head Injury, Hospitals, Jordan gets shot, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orphan Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Park Ranger Derek Hale, Past Stiles Stilinski/Theo Raeken, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory Negotiations, Rich Stiles Stilinski, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrygirlsfun/pseuds/countrygirlsfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles’ life, admittedly, hasn’t been the easiest. </p><p>But he gets a little help navigating adulthood from Derek and Jordan. The only problem is that <em>feelings</em> get involved.</p><p>Feelings for both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Triangle? Gross.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! There's a warning for a part of this fic I didn't know how to tag for. Check the end notes for an explanation :)
> 
> Okay folks, guess what. Like the tags say Derek/Jordan are the established couple in this story. I started this pre-season 5 when I still liked Parrish and I wanted to finish this. If you don't like Stiles/Derek/Jordan fics then this isn't the story for you.
> 
> HUGE thanks to [literaryoblivion](www.literaryoblivion.tumblr.com/) for proofing this and giving me feedback to make this better!

**> >><<< **

Stiles’ life, admittedly, hasn’t been the easiest.

The first few years of his life that he has memories of were nice. But, it’s probably with a haze of nostalgia that he remembers adventures and holidays with both his parents around. His life in Beacon Hills, California both began and ended with the hospital. Eight years after he was born there, Stiles sat with his mom as she wasted away from the disease attacking her mind.

Two weeks after her funeral, Stiles and his dad, John, packed up and left Beacon Hills behind them.

The next few years were far from fun. Stiles’ dad spent nearly every waking hour working, building his own security company while putting in hours for a different security company. Stiles had trouble with school that first year after his mom died. His dad attributed it to stress and grief and then ignored it. But, the school was actually quite sure it was ADHD. It took quite a few canceled meetings before John actually sat down with the faculty and agreed to have him tested.

Once they got him on some drugs, it was only a matter of time before things at school got markedly better. But nothing changed at home. Stiles still basically took care of himself while his dad was either working himself to the bone or drinking enough to fall asleep.

Stiles ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a couple years.

By the time he was thirteen, his dad had his private security company up and running. They’d moved three more times until his dad gave up on getting apartment leases, choosing to stay in long term motels as he worked all over the west coast as he built the company and its reputation. Stiles started doing his classwork online since they were never in a single place long enough for him to be enrolled in an actual school.

He maintained a 4.0 all through middle school though. And, he kept all the books for his dad’s fledgling business.

They had finally settled in San Francisco when he had turned fifteen, and John had been able to set up a corporate office space for all the people that worked for him at his company. His dad grew rather famous in certain circles for his perseverance and how quickly he’d built such a successful empire. Being in California gave him the opportunity to pursue personal security contracts for all different levels of celebrities. And with that a certain notoriety came with having Stilinski Security at your side. The more money the company made the more media attention his dad got.

Also his dad had the tendency to hire ex-military people to work for his company. What Stiles believed to be a genuinely well-intentioned effort to help former servicemen like John had once been, became an issue when John allowed any and all former military personnel to work for him, regardless of their background. They went through a six month stretch where almost every week Stilinski Security was in the news, or the trial was, because of the actions of some of the people his dad had hired on a protection detail.

It went like this, Stiles’ dad hired these two guys without batting an eyelash at their discharge details which cited issues with authority and aggression. Then those guys were assigned a protection detail through the US Marshals to protect a testifying witness in their home. But while on assignment the witness needed to go out for groceries and during that trip the two men subdued what was ultimately, a passerby that wasn’t a threat at all.

The passerby had sued for damages and Stilinski Security, and their questionable hiring practices were in the spotlight.

But despite the growing attention given to his father and at times himself, Stiles finished the online coursework and earned his GED shortly after his sixteenth birthday. It hadn’t been easy, but if he was going to keep an eye on the finances for the empire that Stilinski Security had become, he was going to need more than what high school math had to offer.

Halfway through Stiles’ first round of online college courses, John died on a case from a heart attack.

At sixteen years old, Stiles became an orphan.

As if the situation wasn’t already difficult enough, he was thrown into the spotlight after his dad’s death. The funeral was almost as much of a spectacle as if he’d still been a police officer and had died in the line of duty. And it was the beginning of Stiles’ experiences in front of a camera. He can’t say that he enjoyed it or what would come of it.  

Since he was already an integral part of the company, even at sixteen, there was no one else but him to take over business operations. He learned to delegate a lot more than he would have liked, but the more time he spent in his dad’s old office, the more he learned who to trust with what. But that was the action that spurred so much attention to be on him constantly.

Having a sixteen year old at the helm of a multimillion dollar company opened the company up to some scrutiny. Very public, very thorough scrutiny that meant Stiles was being watched from all angles; everyone was just waiting for him to mess up. He thinks they mostly expected him to let the money get to his head and that he would go crazy with drugs and alcohol and partying.

But if anything, life had taught Stiles how to fight back with the best thing he had: his brain.

His struggle to focus in no way hindered his intelligence when he was able to work at his own pace. In his spare moments at the company, he worked on his homework. The college had allowed him to take incompletes and start over the next semester, but one of many things Stiles inherited from his father was his stubbornness. Despite all odds, he finished the semester with four A’s and a single B.

When he turned eighteen Stiles applied to and was admitted at Berkeley. Deciding to go to college on an actual college campus was the first decision he made about how the rest of his life was going to go. He’d spent the better part of his life working with his dad and giving all his time to Stilinski Security. After years of just taking whatever the universe threw at him, it was his turn to choose what his life would hold.

Making the choice to go to Berkeley led him to meet the right people. People he could and would use to build up a management team he trusted to run the company. Scott McCall, for one, became a close friend for a time. Scott started in a part time position before Stiles slowly worked him up through the ranks, getting him ready to become a Vice President of the company and a part of the upper management.

Stiles met Lydia Martin in the food court when she approached him and told him she was his new friend. Being friends with Lydia meant a new wardrobe, new haircut, and Stilinski Security’s future Vice President of risk management. With Lydia came her boyfriend, Jackson, who Stiles has on the path to becoming the head of his legal department.

Kira Yukimura and Allison Argent who both studied history are going to be the head of the weaponry development. Danny Mahealani was a hard one for Stiles to place. He’d make a wonderful face of the company for PR, but Stiles knows his heart is in computer science. So in him Stiles had the newest head of his IT department.

It took three years, but Stiles slowly grew a network of people he could trust to run his company ethically and in a way that would make his dad proud. He, himself, graduated a little over a year ago at twenty years old with a 3.86 GPA. But today, he announces what he’s been working towards since his dad’s funeral.

Handing the company over to go live a life away from Stilinski Security.

He’s going to live off what’s left of the insurance policy payout from when his dad died and his income as CEO of Stilinski Security far away from San Francisco where he can finally get out of the public eye and live his own life. Day to day operations are being handed down to Scott and Lydia while he’ll only be available for major decisions and quarterly board meetings.

It’s been years of paparazzi, fake gossip articles, and people just waiting for him to screw up. Determined to prove them wrong, Stiles practically lived his life as a hermit before going to Berkeley. Even on campus, the only time he got “in trouble” was for getting between a pushy drunk and Lydia at a party one night.

He’s sick of having to watch his every move and having to hide things about himself from everyone around him. Even if he’s by himself in Beacon Hills, he’ll be free to _be_ himself while he’s there.

So he sits them all down in the boardroom. Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Kira, and Danny fill up the cushy chairs around the sleek table as Stiles lays out the plan. Of course, when they started working in his company, he had just said, “I know a guy,” and gotten them entry level jobs. But as time went on, he moved them up the ladder with a purpose. Now though, he asks. Asks if they actually want to be senior vice presidents in the company for the foreseeable future or not.

Given the opportunity of guaranteed employment after graduation and the opportunity to work with their friends, they all agree to Stiles’ terms. Happily do so, even. Stiles hadn’t really worried about them saying no, but having them say yes is a relief all the same.

He has a date for his last day in San Francisco, and it’s about six months away. He’s still finalizing the paperwork that allows him to control the company from wherever he chooses to be while still returning at least four times a year to maintain involvement. No one but Lydia knows where he’s moving to because she’s the one who decided to build Stiles’ house for him. Outside of her, no one in the company knows where he’s going to end up.

Popular belief is that he’s going to move to New York for more school.

As he walks out of his office building, he smiles at the paparazzi waiting right outside on the street. If he’s really lucky and everything goes according to plan, it could be some of the last pictures taken of him for a very long time.

**> >><<< **

Stiles pinches his nose trying to ward off the headache that’s building behind his eyes as he listens to the dial tone and waits for Lydia to answer her phone.

“You can’t walk away from the company and then call the next day and say, ‘oops, I’m back,’ that’s not how real life works, Stiles.”

“I’m not-“ he starts before he changes his mind, not swaying from the real reason for his call. “Lydia, when I told you I was moving back to Beacon Hills, you were the one who asked to build the house. I said what I wanted was a comfortable house on the edge of town.”

He flails an arm at the cavernous house that, according to the address, is his.

“Not a _mansion out in the woods_.”

“You _said_ comfortable. I went with my own comfort levels. Besides, this way those corporate retreats can happen, and we can all see you every now and again.”

Stiles just heaves a put upon sigh before he mumbles, “Thank you for the beautiful house, Lydia.”

“You’re welcome,” she says primly. “Now go look in your bathroom. If there aren’t seven shower heads, heads will roll.”

*

While he waits for the finishing touches to be put on his house, Lydia has him staying in a hotel for the next three days. He’s nauseatingly familiar with living in hotels and out of a suitcase, but he tries to make the best of it. He doesn’t get recognized once during his stay, instead he gets checked out while he’s running in the gym by the guy next to him. Tall, blond, and handsome had raked his eyes up and down Stiles’ lithe body before giving him a smirk Stiles is sure has bedded more people than Stiles cares to think about.

Appreciative glances aside, Stiles is glad when Lydia’s crew calls him to tell him his house is ready. He moves himself and the clothes from his suitcase into where the rest of his things are waiting. It takes about two months of peace and quiet before Stiles starts feeling a little lonely in his big house. He thinks about getting a cat or a dog, but when he goes to the animal rescue shelter he starts sneezing and his eyes water as soon as he walks in the door.

He wanted something or someone to interact with so lizards and non-furred or feathered pets are kind of out of the equation.

Another month passes, and he’s just about to call Lydia to come up for a visit when he reads the story in the paper.

An apartment fire had destroyed half the building. Instead of fixing and dealing with smoke damage, the property management company decided to level what was left of the building to build a brand new one. While obviously tragic for a lot of people, Stiles sees an opportunity.

He puts an advertisement in the paper the next morning that reads:

Room for Rent  
Cheap, Immediate vacancy  
Newly built, Call for Interview

Stiles puts a number for a pay as you go type cell phone and sets up a schedule for when the calls come flooding in. And, well, the calls come in pretty much immediately. He’s able to weed out some of the questionable ones simply by asking their name and having Facebook open. But at the end of the first day of the advertisement in the paper, he already has enough interviews set up to fill two whole days.

The second floor of the house, where the bedrooms are, has so many empty rooms because Stiles literally uses one of the six the house has. Lydia had furnished one of them to be a guest room for her but left the others bare, allowing Stiles to decide what to do with them. Apparently, he’s decided to rent them out to have someone or someones living in the house with him to ease his loneliness.

**> >><<< **

Jordan Parrish wasn’t expecting his life to turn out the way it has. He can’t really complain about too much though. He has a job as a deputy on the Beacon County Sheriff’s department police force. He has a wonderful, if occasionally taciturn, boyfriend whom he met while they were in college. Thank god for generals for that because there’s no way he would have met a guy studying to be a forest ranger while he himself studied criminology.

He had assumed his parents would disown him when he started dating a boy and was unfortunately proven right. But, he hadn’t anticipated Derek’s mom to welcome him into the family with open arms and a shoulder to cry on even if he and Derek didn’t end up together forever.

He had expected that when they had moved out of the apartment he and his boyfriend shared, that they would be moving into a house. He had daydreamed that maybe even they would be married by then if one of them ever actually got their shit together and buy a ring.

Instead, he’s walking into a coffee shop off Main Street to interview for a place to live.

Honestly though, he couldn’t have planned for a freak apartment fire that destroyed the other half of his and Derek’s building. The decision to raze the building and start over wasn’t that surprising, mostly just inconvenient. Since their apartment only suffered minor smoke damage, their things were all recoverable once the fire department let them back in to move it all out.

So now, most of their worldly possessions are in a storage unit across town while they’re living out of the one long-term hotel Beacon Hills has. Jordan supposes this is a downfall of living in a town as small as Beacon Hills is, there’s not available housing for when suddenly eighty-some people need new apartments.

The ad in the paper had been suspiciously convenient; Jordan was a little wary of it all being a scam. But as he walks into the coffee shop, Derek at his side, both wearing their favorite leather jackets, and sees who is waiting at the table for the interview, he pauses. Derek stops next to him as he recognizes just who is sitting in the best coffee shop Beacon Hills has to offer.

“If you have issues with my company, me, or my father you can just leave,” Stiles Stilinski says shortly not even looking up at whom he’s talking to as he sips at his cup of coffee.

He sees Derek straighten his shoulders a fraction in his peripheral vision and sighs internally. Great. Now Derek already has his guard up about this guy. Jordan just shakes his head and continues walking forward, sliding into the booth across from someone most of this town views as a real celebrity. Derek follows, and the look on his face confirms for Jordan that Derek is already annoyed.

As he’s the one who does most of the talking for the two of them in social situations anyway, he takes control of the conversation right away. Being a cop isn’t something that he can just turn off and on at will though, so even as he answers Stiles’ questions about him and Derek, he’s putting together pieces to solve the puzzle across the table from him.

At the end of all the questions, Stiles sighs, sounding exasperated as he tells them, “I’ll run your background check and get back to you. I’ll be honest, you’re the only one I’m going to promise a viewing of the space. I should have the check back by the end of the day, so I’ll give you a call tomorrow and set up a time that works for the both of you to come look at it.”

It’s a clear dismissal, and Jordan smiles as he shoves at Derek to get him to stand up.

“Thanks for your time; we look forward to hearing from you tomorrow,” Jordan tells him genuinely offering his hand for Stiles’ to shake.

His grip is strong, handshake firm even as his mouth stays turned down at the edges when he simply nods in response. It’s not the best first interaction, but from what Jordan is already deducing about his boyfriend’s favorite famous person, he doesn’t think it should count against Stiles in the long run.

**> >><<< **

Derek storms into his and Jordan’s hotel room after the interview. Well, maybe he should call it an interrogation session because that is what it felt like no matter what Jordan says. He walks right over to his bag, which he was _going_ to reorganize; he _doesn’t_ just need something to do with his hands so he refrains from punching something. Jordan follows him into the room a fair bit calmer, shutting the door gently behind him instead of letting it slam like Derek wanted it to.

He hears Jordan sigh fondly, funny how he knows the differences between sighs now, they’ve been together that long, and turns to face him, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Let me have it,” Jordan tells him with a small, slightly mocking smile, which only irritates Derek that little bit more.

“He was so _rude._ All we did was fucking _pause_ when we saw who it was sitting at the table; you’d think he’d either enjoy or be used to the attention by now. He didn’t need to have that kind of attitude. And then he just had this _tone_ for the rest of the questions, like he was annoyed that he had to be talking to us. Like, he obviously wasn’t bothered that we’re together, but he clearly didn’t like us. We didn’t do anything to give him a bad impression either, so he’s just being a picky little rich boy. And he was _rude_ to you. I hate when people are rude to you, and you won’t let me do anything about it.”

He finishes with a pout and thankfully Jordan doesn’t laugh. He still has that faint smile on his face, but he just walks over, uncrosses Derek’s arms and pulls him onto the bed. Once they’re arranged to his satisfaction, Derek the little spoon so he can rub Derek’s chest in that way that always manages to calm him down, he starts talking softly in Derek’s ear.

“You’re just butthurt that your celebrity crush isn’t what you anticipated.”

Derek elbows him in the side but Jordan doesn’t stop.

“And that made you see _all_ his flaws instead of looking at the big picture. I bet you didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes, or his pale skin, or the way his hair looked like the product had been in it for two days. Between that, the slump of his shoulders, and the fact that he kept gripping his coffee cup to try and stop his hands from shaking, all makes me think he hasn’t been sleeping well if at all for a while now.”

“Are you going to just go through all the things you noticed and then say ‘because I’m a cop’ and force me to accept what you’re saying?” Derek interrupts but his irritation is fading about as fast as it had occurred.

“Yes, now hush,” Jordan returns before he goes back to his breakdown of their meeting with Stiles Stilinski.

“Why wouldn’t he be sleeping? He just handed the company over so, maybe he’s worried about that. But given the circumstances of how we met him I’m going to say he’s not sleeping well in his new house. Which is fair, and now he’s looking to rent out part of the house just to have some level of human interaction. Would _you_ want someone to live in our house if you didn’t have at least a cursory knowledge of them? I know I would run a background check on them before trusting them to be in our home. He said we were the last interview of the day. Derek, with that ad? Let’s face it, our whole building probably sat across from him trying to get in on immediate vacancy and cheap rent. And I know you’re well versed with the miscreants that live in our building.”

Yeah, Derek thinks in agreement as he remembers dings on his Camaro doors, the loud music and fights, and the amount of times Jordan had to answer a call out to their building. If he had to sit through interviews with all those people, he’d probably be a little terse as well. Not to mention if he was tired; Derek knows full well he couldn’t have done it dead on his feet. Which, looking back is about what Stiles looked like: utterly and completely exhausted.

“So have I said enough to convince you he wasn’t being as rude as he could have been?” Jordan asks after giving Derek a moment to ruminate on his observations.

Derek just nods suddenly sleepy.

But Jordan just says, “Good,” and tugs at him until he turns around and becomes the big spoon instead. His arms automatically go around Jordan’s waist, but instead of closing his eyes to enjoy a quick catnap, Jordan keeps talking.

“Now you have to listen to the things I’ve been thinking because I’ve made myself sad.”

Derek perks up, fully awake and a little alarmed by the shift in Jordan’s voice.

“I know you like to follow him in the magazines and justify it because he’s from here. Small town boy makes it big or whatever, but meeting him just made me think. I mean, _his life_ , Derek. I can’t- can you imagine going through everything that’s happened to him and be able to still be a functioning human? Like, his mom dies when he’s eight, and he’s the one who watches her die. Traumatic, yes but still, with therapy I’m sure it’s something he could learn to live with. But then his dad uproots him from his childhood home and school and goes off on this whirlwind of things as he builds his own security company. Who knows how those years went? But then the next thing life throws at him is a dad dead from a heart attack and having a huge life-insurance policy payout to deal with not to mention the multibillion dollar security empire thrust into your hands to control. And he was what? Sixteen when that happened? That’s like a junior in high school, right?”

He pauses long enough to shake his head, and Derek kisses the back of his neck as he lets Jordan’s words sink in.

“Can you imagine being an orphan with no other relatives at sixteen years old?”

Derek’s shoulders hunch instinctively curling closer.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Shit,” Jordan mutters and turns around in Derek’s arms to face him.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I’ll stop-“

“No, no keep talking,” Derek assures him, “let me think about someone else’s misery instead of what could have been mine if Laura hadn’t woken up that night.”

He hates thinking about the fire. It doesn’t bother him so much anymore now that he’s had a few years of therapy under his belt. He’d left the fireplace smoldering one night and something, probably a blanket, caught fire, and the house almost burned down around his family while they slept. But his sister Laura had woken up coughing and woke up their parents who helped get the rest of the kids awake and outside to escape the flames.

So yeah, Derek doesn’t have to imagine too hard; he used to entertain a lot of what-if scenarios after the fire.

Jordan just gives him a soft, sorry look before he settles again and resumes telling Derek where his thoughts took him.

“So not only is he suddenly without any family, he also becomes a public figure overnight. He got all this media attention from then on, but they don’t have anything to say about him because he didn’t go off the rails and start doing crazy things. Like, that one article we saw when he was eighteen was about him getting into an altercation with paparazzi over his friend. It wasn’t even himself that he was defending in that either.”

Derek watches Jordan duck his head before he continues.

“I just, for all the crap that’s happened to him, he’s due something good from the universe. What if we could be that good, Derek?” he asks looking back up at Derek’s face earnestly.

Derek just nods, and Jordan shuffles closer, tucking his head under Derek’s chin and wrapping his arms around him.

“I kind of have my hopes up that he’s going to call us and have us come look at the space after our background checks clear,” he mumbles into Derek’s chest.

“Yeah,” Derek realizes after Jordan’s long winded explanations, “Me too.”  

**> >><<< **

Jordan’s phone rings the next day while he’s out on a call, and he doesn’t have the time to answer it. It’s a couple hours later that he checks his messages to see a voicemail from an unknown number and a text from Derek.

**You don’t work tomorrow, right? <<<**

Even before he pushes on the voicemail, Jordan knows that Stiles found their background checks acceptable and is having them over to look at the space they’ll be renting. He _doesn’t_ work tomorrow, so he shoots Derek a text back and then calls Stiles, easily setting up a time right away in the morning for him and Derek to come over. He punches the address Stiles gives him into his GPS, thanks him again, and hangs up. He’s honestly expecting the house to be on the opposite side of town from the station or maybe even in the new development in the new suburb across town nowhere near the Preserve.

When he sees the little dot appear in the woods just on the edge of the Preserve and only minutes away from the station, he can’t believe his and Derek’s luck. Derek’s going to have to turn up the charm so they can really ensure that they get to rent the room from Stiles.

*

Derek did not know they built houses like this in Beacon Hills. Tucked away into the woods, no one would know about the beautiful house Stiles built to get away from his old life.

The outside is more cabin than house, but Derek is already falling in love with it. The front of the house is mostly windows, but it’s positioned in the clearing to have a view of the forest and a peek at the cliff overlooking Beacon Hills. It’s _huge,_ and Derek suddenly can understand offering to let a couple strangers move in because he wouldn’t want to be alone in a house this big. Jordan parks in front of the equally large garage, and Stiles comes out of the house to greet them.

He looks just as tired as the day before but freshly showered, hair still damp and curling down on his forehead. Now that his irritation from the interview has been proven slightly misguided, Derek just sees a tired, kind of sad young man standing in front of him. He hasn’t wanted to bundle someone up in a blanket and cuddle them until all the hurt goes away in… ever. But he suddenly finds himself feeling such urges as he watches Stiles tiredly show them around the outside of the house.

There’s room in the garage for both Jordan’s and his vehicles. Behind the house, with a still frankly incredible view, is a patio with an outdoor kitchen and dining table. There’s a space where Derek might have put a hot tub and two different doors leading to the house. Stiles takes them through one set, and Derek’s eyes take a moment to adjust from the morning sunshine to see the kitchen they’re standing in. It’s nothing less than what Derek expected, big, open, lots of counter space, new appliances, and big windows to let in light.

Connected to the kitchen is the living room in the front of the house. The big windows they saw outside are one of the focal points in the room. The others being the fireplace and the huge TV. He’s surprised to find the gas fireplace doesn’t give him any feelings of anxiety given his history with fire. But whether the feelings are drowned out by awe as they continue to look over the house or they just didn’t exist in the first place, Derek isn’t sure.

Stiles leads them upstairs and explains that they can pick any of the rooms but directs them to the one right across from his to look at first. It’s the other bedroom with a bathroom directly connected he explains and walks them through. Not only does the room have a connected bathroom, but it also has a walk in closet, a fireplace, a window with a window seat and is big enough to hold everything Derek and Jordan own.

Stiles is going on about how if they want, he can have one of the other bedrooms fitted to be a kitchenette or a study, but Derek isn’t listening. If he wants people living in the house for company, giving him and Jordan a way to remain completely self-sufficient isn’t going to accomplish much. Besides, now that Derek has seen the full kitchen, he has no desire to go back to using a kitchenette. Jordan could work in the library Stiles has in the basement and Derek’s glad when Jordan explains that.

Stiles even offers to help them furnish the room if they need it after the fire, but Derek shakes his head.

“Our apartment wasn’t in the part that burned down we have all our things still,” Derek explains.

“Oh, okay. Well, feel free to use any of the rooms as a storage space if you need, and there’s a closet down the hall that’s empty as well. Laundry is in a room just off the garage as well as my…” Stiles pauses, obviously searching for a word. “Workroom. Which is what the other doors on the patio lead to. I’d appreciate if you didn’t go in there. Um, ever,” Stiles says nervously and rubs at the back of his neck. “So do you guys think- I mean I know it probably looks appealing but do you want to move in?”

“Yes,” Derek says firmly earning a smirk from Jordan.

Because now that he’s here in the space Stiles is trying to call home all by himself, he knows why he failed. It’s too big, too impersonal still. Derek wonders if Stiles spends most of his days in the workroom they’re not allowed to enter. How often does he sleep in his bed and not on the couch downstairs? It may be his teeny tiny celebrity crush talking, but Derek wants to move in and make Stiles’ life better as soon as humanly possible.

**> >><<< **

 

When Stiles was going through his first two years of college, he did all of his coursework online. All of his generals and most of the classes were business-focused because that’s what he needed to learn to run the company as effectively as possible. But once he got on campus and had to take more electives, he found what he was meant to be doing.

He figured his dad would have scowled and shook his head, saying something like Stiles was wasting his analytical, investigative skills by pursuing art as a major. But, Stiles hadn’t cared. After the hand he was dealt by the universe, he was going to do what he wanted with the rest of his life. He had found a great deal of peace expressing himself in those classes. He never could have narrowed himself down to a single medium, but he had discovered his favorites.

That’s why even though Lydia had designed the rest of the house, Stiles had designed his studio. In fact, it was the only thing he had designed in the house before turning it over to Lydia to finish. The large, bright space has enough room for Stiles to have multiple projects going at once. There’s storage cupboards, a sink for his brushes, skylights, florescent lighting, and recessed lighting. It has a door to the house, the garage, and the patio outside to keep from tracking messes through the house.

During the first three months he had spent in the house alone, he had spent most of his time in that room. He had ended up searching out a cheap, comfy couch on Craigslist for the room for spontaneous naps within the first week.

When Derek and Jordan move in, Stiles doesn’t change his habits that much. Get up, eat something, spend the day watching Netflix or in his studio, shower, go to bed. So, the first two weeks of having housemates doesn’t change much. He doesn’t like people in his space while he’s working, so he’d made it clear that he didn’t want them to ever go into his studio. But since he spends so much time in there, they haven’t really talked since the two moved in, and it’s not really what Stiles wanted when he decided to get people to live in the house.

Getting lost in his work means occasionally time gets away from him. He’s never really been the type to be awake when the sun was up and asleep when it got dark. He’s always worked late into the night or early morning and then slept until noon to counter it. But sometimes his days and nights get so messed up that he’s actually on what everyone else considers a normal schedule.

It’s one of those days where he emerges from his studio looking for some food when he stops short, seeing Derek and Jordan already in the kitchen making supper. He’s about to excuse himself back to his studio when he notices relief of all things pass across Derek’s face.

“Hey,” he greets, hating how his voice comes out rough from disuse. But, the other men in his kitchen just smile warmly at him.

“Hungry?” Jordan asks from his spot at the stove, and Stiles nods, a little unsure how to interact with people again after being alone for so long.

“Here, come sit down,” Derek offers, and Stiles sits at the table across from him with a nervous smile.

But, Derek looks so happy and eager for some reason that Stiles’ discomfort leaves almost as quickly as it arose.

“What, uh, what are you making?”

Derek smirks then, and Jordan turns back to the stove, shoulders hunched a little. Stiles looks between them confusedly.

“Well, it’s Jordan’s night to cook, which means it’s one of two things: cheeseburgers or mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Stiles smiles a little at what is obviously a longstanding inside joke between the two. “And tonight we’re having?”

“Cheeseburgers with mac ‘n’ cheese on the side,” Jordan mutters, and Stiles laughs.

And just like that, the conversation just starts to flow between the three of them. They talk about what Derek and Jordan do, how long Stiles had been in the house alone, what Stiles and Derek like to cook. Stiles is a little surprised when Derek shyly asks if he’s finished decorating the house or if they could make some suggestions. He hadn’t really noticed it, but now that he looks around, despite Lydia’s design pointers, the walls are pretty bare. So he shrugs and asks what they had in mind. It’s simply ironic that they’re talking to a bored artist and asking for paintings. But, that doesn’t mean Stiles isn’t listening to their ideas and already mentally planning out what he could do with the blank canvas he has and sizes of canvas he could order in.

After they finish the meal, Derek and Stiles clean up, and Stiles finds he’s not ready to stop hanging out with Derek and Jordan. As he wipes down the last dish and puts it away Jordan pipes up.

“Do you have to go back to work? We were going to watch Star Wars if you want to join us.”

Stiles can’t even begin to fight back the smile that grows on his face. “What episode?”

“Episode IV, duh,” Derek responds to Stiles’ delight, “We’re starting at the beginning.”

“Sounds great.”

And just like that he’s roped into movie night with the two. For the first one, Stiles tucks himself into the overstuffed chair with a throw blanket while Derek and Jordan sit on the couch next to each other. By the time they start the second movie, Stiles needs a snack. When he comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn Derek just tugs him down onto the couch with the excuse that he doesn’t want to have to pass the bowl back and forth so far. Stiles, for his own part, settles into the corner of the couch with pleasure.

In college, he had gotten used to squishing everyone into one couch for movie nights, and Stiles is surprised again by how much he missed the easy, casual touches. He starts off sitting, leaning against the armrest, but what feels like moments later he’s moved a lot closer to Derek on the couch, and by the time the movie is over, they’re pressed together from shoulder to knee. Of course by the time the movie is over, all three of them are mostly asleep, so Stiles hopes he’s forgiven for cuddling up to Derek in his sleep-deprived state.

But, Derek just kisses Jordan’s forehead, smiles over at Stiles blinking himself awake, and stands up before helping Jordan to his feet and then doing the same for Stiles.

“Thanks for hanging out with us,” he starts quietly. “I know it’s your house, but I’m just gonna say you should know you’re more than welcome to spend time with us.”

Stiles nods sleepily, though he takes Derek’s words to heart.

After that first night of dinner and movies, Stiles makes an effort to keep a normal human schedule. He puts up a whiteboard on the fridge, and Derek and Jordan put their work schedules on it. Stiles puts when his video conference meetings on it as well. Knowing when they’ll be around, Stiles tries to come out of his studio to share meals with them and hang out.

Of course, he starts working on the paintings they’d suggested right away, but it’s not for another month that he’s truly satisfied with any of them.

The first one to go up is the sunflowers in the kitchen. Jordan had mentioned how the yellow walls made him think of flowers, and Stiles had been itching to try something new. A quick google search later, and Stiles was painting a field of sunflowers. The focal point is a blooming flower with sunshine lighting up the petals from behind. Instead of torturing himself with painting a couple hundred blossoms, Stiles painted a few in the background, but his inspiration came from a picture of what was the first blossom in the field. So the background of his painting is more leaves and underdeveloped blooms than full flowers.

The day he puts it up, he waits until both Jordan and Derek have left for work before he hangs it on the wall. Stiles spends his day out of the studio and in the house. He does some dishes, tidies in the living room, even bakes some cookies. Both Jordan and Derek love the painting; they both claim it was exactly what they had envisioned. Stiles tries not to preen too much under their praise. Mainly because, they don’t know he’s the one that painted it.

In the month that’s passed since he first started hanging out with Derek and Jordan, Stiles has found himself truly enjoying their company. Derek has a dry, sassy humor that just sneaks up on Stiles, where Jordan is a bit more brash and crass and in your face with his humor. But, they somehow balance each other out.

They’re friends. At least, Stiles likes to think he’s befriended the couple living in his house. They eat at least five meals a week together and watch that many movies or TV shows all together in the evening. Their early stilted conversations grow comfortable. The early tentative touches, hands brushing passing dishes at the table, sitting together on the couch, are far less uneasy now. Hands clapping his back, hips bumping him out of the way, hugs goodnight, and platonic cuddles on the couch.

It’s nice.

Stiles wouldn’t really want to go back to how things used to be; he realizes he’s happy with his housemates, happier than he ever thought he’d be.

Which is of course, when things go wrong.

**> >><<< **

 

Sometimes Derek wishes he was better at tricky conversations. Derek has learned since they’ve started spending time with him that Stiles uses a lot of words, and Jordan normally matches him when they’re visiting, while Derek gets his point across without using such verbose language. Normally watching Stiles and Jordan talk and discuss is rather amusing for Derek. But it all briefly goes to hell one day after they’ve finished eating supper.

Stiles is washing the dishes because Jordan cooked the meal (hot dogs and mac n’ cheese), while Derek and Jordan stay at the table, keeping him company until they can all go sit in the living room and continue their Marvel movie marathon.

“How was work today?” Derek asks Jordan innocently.

“It was fine,” he answers, initially dismissive before something sparks a memory and his face lights up. “Oh yeah! We were looking over cold cases to see if it fits something Erica is working on when I came across a file with your dad as the primary officer.”

Stiles doesn’t turn around when he answers, but Derek thinks he sees a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. He doesn’t think too much of it; it’s probably still hard to talk about his dad even six years later. Derek wonders if he’s ever talked about his dad with anyone, if he had anyone in his life that got close enough to him that he opened up.

“Yeah? I’m sure his name is still on a few files down there.”

“Yeah,” Jordan agrees a little wistfully. “He’s kind of a legend at the station. Especially going out on his own like he did, it was pretty gutsy.”

Stiles freezes, shoulders hunching up ever so slightly.

“Gutsy?” he asks, clarifying what Jordan meant.

“Yeah, gutsy. It was a pretty brave move to go out and start his own company all by himself. I mean, what would you call it?” he asks carelessly.

Derek can’t see his face, but Jordan has to know what he’s doing; his boyfriend isn’t needlessly this much of an asshole. Anyone with eyes can already see and hear Stiles doesn’t want to talk about this. Not like this. Derek stands up calmly, under the guise of getting more water out of dispenser on the front of the fridge. Instead of sitting down he leans against the counter, giving himself a clear view of both Jordan and Stiles.

“I wouldn’t call it brave,” Stiles says quietly as he wipes the last dish and puts it in the drying rack.

“What do you-“ Jordan starts, but Stiles braces himself against the counter, letting his head hang down hiding his face from Derek.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he says firmly. Derek sees a look of calculation that Jordan never can quite completely wipe from his features when he’s questioning a suspect, and Derek suddenly wishes he knew how to stop this.

“Ah, come on,” Jordan cajoles, tone petulant, and Stiles smacks the towel down on the counter and turns around to face him finally.

“I know what you’re doing, and I don’t appreciate you treating me like a suspect, Jordan. You’re not this much of an asshole. If you wanted me to talk about my dad you just have to ask. Did you want me mad? Huh? Well, good job, you got your wish.”

“All I said was-“

“Jordan-“ Derek tries to cut in because Derek doesn’t understand why he’s not stopping.

“You think he was brave, yeah I got it. My dad was a lot of things, but after my mom died, brave was not one of them.”

“But-“

“He was selfish,” Stiles says loudly over Jordan’s attempt to interrupt. “Brave would have been staying. Brave is not taking your kid out of everything familiar, away from any kind of reminders of his mother who just died. Brave is not working so many hours in a day that your kid gets himself to and from school on the bus by himself only to come home to sit alone in a dingy, crappy apartment. Brave is not working hours on end then drinking until he would pass out just to get some sleep and doing that on repeat for years.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re really minding his decision now. Living off the life insurance money, right? And you’re still CEO at the company now so that has to be _some_ kind of income.”

Derek really wants to smack him upside the head. Or pick him up and carry him out of the room because Stiles is _shaking_.

“You son of a bitch. I would have been happier _dirt broke poor_ after he died if I’d actually had a father around while I grew up and had friends to help me through his death.”

“What do you mean? If he hadn’t gone off and started Stilinski Security he probably wouldn’t have died in the first place. He was perfectly healthy when he worked for the sheriff’s department.”

Stiles laughs and it’s an ugly thing.

“Healthy? He had to eat nothing but salad for a week before his bloodwork was done so his cholesterol levels were passable. His side of the family has a history of heart disease and high cholesterol. The man lived off a diet of Jack Daniels and microwavable burritos from vending machines. Didn’t matter what I did or how much I learned to cook, he wouldn’t stop working long enough to eat any of the meals I would make.”

“So there’s no way he died of anything other than a heart attack?”

“Of course not, why is this even a question right now- oh. Oh my god. You piece of shit. You _were_ questioning me like a suspect. My dad was murdered, is that what you’re telling me?”

"I didn't say anything about murder-“

"Stiles don't say anything to that,” Derek interrupts and steps between the two, facing his boyfriend and glaring at him. “Jordan isn't going to continue on this line of questioning anymore."

"You knew about this Derek?" Stiles asks suddenly, sounding more hurt than angry now. Derek casts a look away from Jordan to see Stiles collapsed back against the counter like all the fight just drained out of him.

"No," Derek replies adamantly, and Jordan says the same thing.

Derek turns back to Jordan and grips his arms forcing Jordan to look at him.

"What is wrong with you? Just for a minute I want you to think about questioning me like that. Tricking me. Being a world class asshole to me."

"I wouldn't ever need to-"

"What if the fire was arson," Derek says and Jordan shuts up fast.

Derek thought of this from the moment he realized Jordan was working an angle.

"What if evidence showed up that there was a pattern of fires around the time my family's house burned down. What if evidence showed that they all had seemingly been started by innocent or circumstantial happenings except for there's a curious similarity. Like the victims are connected or something. And when whoever running the case wants to bring me in for questioning about my official statement that I thought I left a blanket too close to the embers and you said no I'll get his statement. How would you have done it? Would you have been a bully? Or would you have sat me down and used those cop skills you like to brag about to tell me certain things and then gauge my reaction. You didn't need to do this. Not like this. Would you have pulled this kind of shit if it were me that needed questioning?"

"Stiles isn't my boyfriend,” Jordan replies.

"He is our friend though. At least he was starting to be. I wouldn't blame him if he _evicted_ us after the stunt you just pulled. Dammit Jordan, you know I already told my mother he'd be coming to dinner next month. How is he supposed to trust us after you pull something like this? We wanted to be something good here for him, what were you thinking?”

"I wouldn't evict you," Stiles says quietly behind Derek, and Derek just sighs before turning around.

"Do you want us to leave though, for tonight? Or a couple nights?"

Stiles just shakes his head wearily and pushes off the counter to cross the kitchen. "No," he answers as he walks, "you don't need to leave. I just- need some space right now, as cliché as that sounds."

"You can come to us when you’re ready. I'm sorry I didn't stop him sooner."

They both give him looks of confusion before Jordan faces Stiles and squares his shoulders.

"I apologize for how I handled things tonight, Stiles. Erica was able to find a pattern among the deaths of some former cops. Your father was thrown into the mix of consideration of a possible victim. If you have time, I would appreciate it if you could come down to the station within the next couple days for a few questions and a briefing on the investigation."

Surprisingly, Stiles nods. "I’ll find time. Thank you for the apology. You'll understand, I need some time to figure out if I can trust you again."

Jordan nods, and Stiles returns it with a nod of his own before he walks through the door of his workroom, quickly closing it behind himself.

*

Stiles stares blankly at his studio before he leans back against the door and slides down to the floor. _Fuck_ he hates thinking about his dad. He hates all the memories it brings up again. Hates how bitter and angry it always makes him feel. He'd thought he'd gotten most of those feelings out of his system through his art in college.

He can't believe Jordan did what he did. Can't believe he didn't see something like this coming. Things have been going so well since he and Derek had moved in; Stiles was just content to let the good times roll.

But now he's all sorts of confused. He's got all sorts of questions rattling around in his brain about Jordan's actions, Derek's reaction, his father's death. He sits and stews until his brain is fuzzy and he can't think straight anymore.

Then he picks himself up off the floor and strides across the room to his drafting table. He pulls out his big pad of paper and his charcoals and sets to work.

He doesn't think, he just draws. Feels the weight of the charcoal in his fingers, the drag of it on the paper, the softness on his fingertips when he uses them to smudge a line. What starts as clean lines and imprecise movements transforms into something recognizable as he lets his mind go blank of everything save what he's drawing.

After a while his fingers are black and it's smeared up into his palms and streaked on his forearms. He pulls back from the drawing, wincing as his back protests when he sits up straight for the first time in a long time apparently. The sunlight filtering in through the windows and the skylights brightens the room around Stiles and his singular light at his draft table.

His subconscious does weird things sometimes, but he's learned not to fight it. His art always ends up better if he just lets his mind work through what it needs to.

It's been probably close to a decade since he last saw it, but the deputy badge on the page in front of him is as accurate as a picture.

He pushes away from the table and stumbles over to the sink to wash his hands. Once they're relatively clean he splashes water on his face, shocking himself awake further.

While his mind is tired, his body is all kinds of stiff and tight. He knows from experience that just dropping into bed only means waking up even more sore. He leaves his studio behind and makes his way through the house to his bedroom, throws on some running clothes and shoes, grabs his headphones, and heads back downstairs.

The clock on the oven says it’s only 4:45 in the morning. Stiles knows Jordan will be up and gone by 5:00, and Derek goes on patrol just after that. He takes a moment to be grateful for not having to face them just yet and heads outside. He goes a new direction, picks a new trail to follow and takes off at a slow pace. He doesn’t keep track of time or distance just keeps running until his legs feel loose and his lungs are burning.

After a rest and a stretch, Stiles heads back towards his house on the trail that runs along the edge of a small ravine at places. He is literally yards from his house when he rolls an ankle and trips to fall down the short drop. It wouldn’t be so bad, Stiles is no stranger to being a klutz, but as he rolls to a stop this time, his head bashes into a rock at the bottom and Stiles’ world goes dark.

*

As a Park Ranger in the forest around Beacon Hills, Derek has seen some weird stuff happen. From bodies in the woods to sasquatch enthusiasts, Derek feels like he’s seen it all. Though they happen less frequently, Derek has even had to stand calm in the face of an emergency. He’s seen people hurt and animals killed, but Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for the day he’s the one who finds a body in his woods. But as long as he does his job and watches out for the people out and about in his woods, maybe he won’t have to.

Which is why, the morning after The Jordan Disaster, as he’s internally referring to it, Derek is out making the rounds in his pickup, checking along the hiking trails. And because he’s there, he sees a runner trip and stumble into the ravine. The ravine in the forest is long and winding. At some points, it’s no more than a steeply sided ditch, but in other places, it’s deep enough to need climbing gear to get out of. He figures the guy was lucky to have fallen in a spot where it wasn’t quite as deep. But as Derek drives closer and the runner hasn’t climbed back out, Derek starts feeling concerned. He stops at the spot he saw the guy go over the edge and gets out. He goes into his emergency mode seeing the man unmoving at the bottom and radios it in, requesting an ambulance. It’s only after he’s slid down the embankment and rolls the person over that he realizes it’s Stiles.

There’s blood on his forehead and he’s out cold, but Derek doesn’t panic. He doesn’t let his thoughts run wild of why Stiles was out here in the first place, why he was out so early. He doesn’t think; he just _moves,_ pulling Stiles into his arms to carry him out of the ditch. It’s about as easy he expected; Stiles is maybe a buck fifty, and that’s a big maybe. He gets them back up next to his truck and decides he isn’t going to be waiting for the ambulance to amble down the trails to where he’s at. Instead, he maneuvers Stiles into lying on the back seat as gently as possible before he gets behind the wheel and pulls out his phone.

He calls dispatch who puts him through to the ambulance, and Derek tells them where to meet him. He doesn’t have time to panic because Stiles still hasn’t come around, so instead he focuses on getting to a point that the ambulance can easily get to.

The EMTs are less than impressed.

“What were you thinking, Hale? You know you’re not supposed to move someone who’s fallen, what if he had spinal damage?”

“I wasn’t-“

“You weren’t thinking,” Isaac says, annoyed as he pushes Derek out of the way.

Stiles is secured to the stretcher, and they’re just closing the door when Boyd finally turns and sees the look on Derek’s face.

“Hale, do you know this guy?”

Derek swallows thickly and nods, trying to look away from the line of blood on Stiles’ face. He only looks at Boyd once Isaac has the door shut blocking his view.

“Yeah, he’s my…” Derek trails off.

He suddenly doesn’t know what to call Stiles. They’re friends sure, but Stiles is technically their landlord. And Derek thinks they’re more than just that though. But, he can’t say ‘he’s the guy I’m living with’ because the connotations with that are wrong, too.

“We’re friends. Jordan and I have been renting a room in his house since the fire.”

Boyd looks at him calculatingly.

“You’re going to follow us to the hospital aren’t you?”

Derek nods again and goes back to his truck, already calling his boss letting him know he’ll be out the rest of the day. The drive to the hospital is quick, and the hospital staff don’t want to let Derek follow Stiles in. But, just as he tries to tell her that he’s all Stiles has, another nurse comes running to the doorway looking right at Derek.

“You’re Derek Hale?”

Derek nods, and the nurse holding Derek back looks over her shoulder in question. The new nurse looks at her and shakes her head.

“He can come in, he’s listed as an emergency contact.”

Derek sighs and walks quickly into the hospital, waiting for the nurse that came to get him to point out where they had taken Stiles. Derek stays out of the way as a doctor examines Stiles. After a few minutes, the doctor wraps his stethoscope around his neck like they do on TV and walks out to where Derek is waiting.

“You’re next of kin?”

“Something like that,” Derek replies, and the doctor quirks an eyebrow at him in question before he pulls the chart up again to tell Derek what’s going on.

“He’s responsive, reflexes, pupil dilation, but he’s not awake. We’re keeping him here until he wakes up and maybe then some. He’ll be taken to a room now if you’d like to follow behind.”

Derek nods and reaches out to shake the man’s hand when the doctor offers it.

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods once more and is off to deal with other patients. Derek waits for the nurses to finish what they’re doing as they get Stiles ready to move. Eventually though, he’s sitting next to Stiles’ bedside in the private room, listening to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. He’s glad the blood has been cleaned away, and it’s then that Derek notices the dark smudges on Stiles face and arms, like he’d run his hands through his hair and spread whatever he was working with there.

Curiosity piqued, Derek reaches up and smooths a thumb over a streak of black on Stiles’ forearm to figure out what Stiles could be doing in that work room of his. He’s kind of surprised when he realizes it’s charcoal. He only knows because Laura had an art phase where she was convinced that if she found the right medium she could be great. In true Laura fashion, she gave up on art a few weeks later in favor of restoring a motorcycle.

It’s _still_ in their parents’ garage.

He realizes he’s been just staring at Stiles’ peaceful face and brushing his thumb back and forth on Stiles’ arm when he startles at the sound of the door slamming open. Derek looks up to see Jordan standing there, leaning heavily against the doorway looking panicked. His face is flushed; he’s breathing hard like he ran from wherever he was to get to the hospital, and it takes Derek a moment to piece together that if he was an emergency contact, Jordan probably was too.

“Oh my god…is he…did he…because of what I-“ Jordan stammers as he staggers into the room, and Derek stands up to go to him because he looks like he’s about to fall over.

“I am a terrible person,” Jordan says looking close to tears. Derek is _so_ confused, but he pulls Jordan to him anyway.

“J, what are you thinking right now? You’re not making full sentences.”

Jordan pulls back from Derek’s embrace and looks at him seriously.

“Did Stiles remembering his dad, because of what I did last night make him try to- make him attempt-“

“No, Jordan, no. I promise; that’s not what happened here. Last night,” Derek sighs, but he’s still not going to let Jordan off the hook for his behavior. “Last night was not good. But, Stiles was out running in the Preserve this morning and tripped into the ravine. I saw it happen from behind so I didn’t know it was Stiles until I got to him. He didn’t try and hurt himself because of last night.”

Jordan nods sadly and takes a few deep breaths, hiding in Derek’s chest.  

Derek holds on to Jordan until his breathing is even and he’s a bit steadier on his feet. Jordan takes the second chair and puts it on the side of the bed so he and Derek are sitting opposite each other. Derek for his part, sits back in his spot and takes up holding Stiles’ hand. He can feel Jordan’s eyes on him, but a moment later Jordan reaches to hold Stiles’ other hand.

“So we’re his emergency contacts?” Jordan asks quietly a few moments later.

Derek shrugs a little, “What if we’re all he has here?”

They sit in silence then until after a while, Stiles heart rate gets a little faster and a doctor comes to check on him. Derek looks over at Jordan every few minutes and sees a look on his face that Derek knows to mean that Jordan is deep in thought.

Derek doesn’t push to know what he’s thinking about, but he doesn’t have to because Jordan blurts it out anyway.

“How do you grovel to a millionaire?”

Derek snorts because he knows that’s how Jordan apologizes; big bouquets of flowers, bottles of alcohol, massages, nice dinners, sexual favors.

Before Derek can say anything though, Stiles’ hand twitches in his hold.

“You ask nicely,” Stiles mumbles, and Jordan and Derek jump up in surprise.

“Please, please tell me that I didn’t end up in the hospital because I tripped and fell.”

Stiles opens his eyes then and looks at Derek, but Derek can only shake his head and squeeze Stiles’ hand reassuringly.

“Your head hit a rock at the bottom and knocked you out. When you weren’t waking up, they had to keep you here. But, the doctor said it appears to be a mild concussion, nothing too major. Also, you sprained your ankle pretty bad, so he said you need to take it easy for a few days while your body heals.”

“The doctor-“ Jordan swallows when Stiles’ eyes snap to his face, then to where Jordan is still holding Stiles’ hand and back to his face. Derek watches a blush appear on Jordan’s cheeks, but he doesn’t let go as he continues, “The doctor said it was like you were sleeping not unconscious.”

“That makes sense,” Stiles sighs, letting his head fall back on the pillows as he stares at the ceiling. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

Jordan’s face falls, looking anguished like he did when he came rushing in the door.

“So it is my fault,” he mutters, and Derek watches him pull his hand back to himself.

“No, it wasn’t,” Stiles says, sounding reluctant. “I’m still pissed at you, but it’s my understanding that you can get mad at friends without losing them as a friend.”

Jordan nods, looking hopeful at Stiles’ words.

“Don’t ever try and pull something like that again,” Stiles says, voice incredibly steady and firm, considering he’s lying in a hospital bed with a head wound.

But, Jordan just nods vigorously, obviously repentant. “It won’t happen again.”

Stiles nods, and Jordan grabs his hand again to get Stiles to look at him. Once Stiles makes eye contact, Jordan repeats, “It won’t, I promise.”

 

**> >><<< **

 

Derek and Jordan arrange their work schedules to have a weekend off together at least once a month. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but they never go more than six weeks without spending three whole days together. And not every time will they go out or take a trip or anything. Sometimes it’s a simple weekend of reading in the same room together or watching something on Netflix all day.

After The Jordan Disaster, Derek spends more time with Stiles when he isn’t locked away in his workroom. But unlike Derek’s expectations, Stiles hasn’t pulled away. Sure things are a little tense between Stiles and Jordan, but overall the amount of time Stiles spends with them doesn’t diminish enough to be noticeable. Since Stiles is choosing to move on, Derek and Jordan do the same.

Which is why, the next time they have a weekend together, Derek pulls Stiles from the house to his truck and makes Jordan ride in the back.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asks warily as he puts his seatbelt on.

Derek just smiles as he starts the truck and puts it in reverse to leave the house.

“Farmer’s market.”

“Yes!” Jordan exclaims from the backseat. “Oh my god I just remembered the _bacon_. How do I always manage to forget how great this place is and then suddenly bam! It’s been three months since we’ve gone.”

Stiles peers over his shoulder looking hesitantly amused.

“I’ve never been,” he says turning back to look at Derek.

Derek tries to ignore the ache in his chest at that. Not that farmer’s markets are a requirement for a happy life or anything. It’s just a reminder of things Stiles has missed out on. Derek’s learned over the past few months that Stiles is a contradiction. He grew up too fast, and so in many respects, he has had more experience “being an adult” than either he or Jordan have. But the flip side to that is Stiles not only missed out on experiencing things as a kid, but he also never had a positive example of “how to adult” in his life. Sometimes it makes Derek unhappy that Stiles has had to live the life he was dealt.

But, instead of letting it get him too depressed, Derek decided he’ll just give Stiles some good experiences. And going to the farmer’s market is one thing on his list.

“You’ve got some cash on you, right?” Derek asks Stiles as they drive through town.

Stiles pushes his hips up, and Derek focuses very carefully on the road as Stiles’ long fingers fish in his back pocket for his wallet. Stiles gets it out and sits back down; he flips through whatever he keeps in his wallet before he closes it and leaves it on his thigh.

“Twenty bucks should be enough, right?”

“Well, that depends on what you want to buy,” Jordan tells him as Derek finds the nearest ATM so Stiles can get more cash.

“I bring a couple hundred dollars with me because we don’t go here too often, so I stock up when we make the drive out,” Derek explains as he puts the truck in park so Stiles can get out.

The farmer’s market, the good one, is an hour out of Beacon Hills, but it’s the best one in Beacon County. There’s the fresh produce; fresh meats, eggs, honey, and cheeses. Sometimes there are other stands with things people have made like BBQ sauce, wines and beers, and homemade jellies and jams. And since they don’t go every weekend, Derek normally gets things that they can store for a while and the stuff they use right away.

Stiles jumps back in the vehicle after using the ATM, and the wad of cash he’s trying to shove in his wallet is kind of alarming.

“It wouldn’t let me take out more than $500, will that be enough?”

Derek keeps a straight face as he nods encouragingly and pulls back out onto the road.

“That should be fine; you might not spend all of it, but this way if you see something you like you won’t have to worry.”

Stiles is looking more and more excited as they start driving again. Derek already has a plan of what he wants to get while they’re there. They need more of the strawberry rhubarb jam from Mrs. Dahl. He needs another bear-shaped container of honey from the Sundaes. Jordan will get another sampler of home brewed beer and force Derek to drink some and of course his bacon. Jordan will also purchase the nastiest BBQ sauce and try to convince Derek that it’s better than Derek’s mom’s homemade stuff.

Normally, they get a few pounds of beef and pork from a local organic farmer. This time Derek is going to ask if they can get more though. After Stiles’ fall and the subsequent concussion, the doctor had expressed concern over Stiles’ physical condition. Between his pale skin, his skinny frame, and how easily he was knocked unconscious, the doctor was rightfully curious.

The curiosity stemmed more from a lack of history of doctor’s appointments than anything else though. When asked, Stiles admitted the last time he’d seen a doctor was when he’d had his ADHD diagnosed when he was 10. Stiles’ doctor had expressed his worry that Stiles had been probably malnourished for most of his childhood, and those eating habits had simply carried into his young adult life. The doctor had sent Stiles to a dietitian who outlined how they should go about using what Stiles already likes to eat to get more nutrition into his daily routine.

While he is an excellent cook, Stiles apparently hasn’t been eating enough of the good stuff to provide enough nutrients to his body.  And whatever he does all day in his work room isn’t physical enough either, so the nutritionist had given him a basic home workout that he needed to do every other day at the least. With Stiles eating more and Derek and Jordan staying in more often than they’re eating out now, they’ve been going through more and more food. Derek can only stand store bought beef so long.

That meeting had been what really opened Derek and Jordan’s eyes to how much Stiles was missing in his knowledge of “how to adult.” Things like how it’s a good idea to go to the doctor once a year to have things checked or to make appointments with a dentist twice a year to have his teeth cleaned. Derek’s a little worried about what kind of sex education Stiles got, but neither he nor Jordan are ready to open that can of worms.

It’s only been a few weeks, but Derek’s already seen a difference. There’s more color in Stiles’ complexion, he’s filled out a little, and there’s even a little more energy in his demeanor. Which is evidenced by the fact that when they get there, Stiles is bouncing in his seat as he gets unbuckled.

Jordan comes up to hold Derek’s hand as they walk from the car towards the circle of booths. It’s busy, there’s people milling around, and Jordan huffs a laugh next to Derek as they watch Stiles flit from vendor to vendor in excitement. Eventually they split up so they can get their shopping done.

They end up staying for almost two hours. It's easy to see that while Stiles may be completely okay being secluded in his house with only Derek and Jordan for company, he is by no means shy. Derek ends up sitting at a picnic table with his stuff to wait for the other two to finish their shopping. By the time Jordan comes over with his purchases, Stiles appears to be in a heated discussion with an old woman selling hand knitted mittens. Derek gets to watch in utter amusement as it ends with the woman pulling Stiles into a tight hug before sending him on his way. He walks away looking dazed before he sees Derek and Jordan waving at him and weaves his way to them through the crowd of people.

He comes up to them, plaid shirt sitting crooked on his shoulders, his Mets SnapBack a little off center, face flushed but smiling widely.

"Done already?"

They both laugh, and when Stiles' brow furrows in confusion Derek shakes his head a little.

"Check the time, Stiles. We've been here since 10:00. It's almost noon. I mean, we can stay for a little while longer I guess, but I think you've met just about everyone."

A blush is spreading across Stiles' cheeks as he ducks his head almost bashfully.

"I didn't realize… should we find somewhere for lunch? My treat for keeping you here so long?"

Jordan just wraps an arm around Stiles' shoulders as they start walking back to the truck, and Derek doesn't question the warm, happy feeling he gets when Stiles puts his arm around Jordan's waist.

*

"That was a good idea, taking Stiles to the market," Jordan tells Derek as they're getting ready for bed later that night.

Derek flips back the covers and crawls in his side of the bed as Jordan takes his medicine.

"Did you see him with Muriel? We're going to have to ask him how he got away without a sweater," Derek tells Jordan with a smirk.

They both have two sweaters a piece because they'd been unable to say no to the woman selling hand knit sweaters, scarves, mittens, and socks. Jordan crawls into the bed and pulls the covers back up over both of them.

"And you didn't see him when I was talking with Gene about the beef. He just kept asking question after question."

Jordan shakes his head a little in disbelief.

"We need to get him out more often."

Derek hums and nods in agreement as he relaxes into the bed.

"We could take him to the diner for lunch one day."

"Or we could take him to a museum. He got that painting out of seemingly nowhere; he has to at least appreciate art," Jordan offers back.

"We could take him to that coffee shop you love so much and then the bookstore for a few hours one afternoon."

Derek trails off, and Jordan shifts around until he's on his stomach, arms around his pillow as he turns to face Derek.

"Am I the only one realizing it sounds like we want to take him on a date?" Derek asks quietly.

When Jordan doesn't respond for a minute, and Derek turns his head to find him tracing a finger on his pillow, refusing to meet Derek's eyes.

"Am I the only one who was surprised by how right it felt when Stiles put his arm around me?" he mumbles, and Derek sighs in relief.

"I thought it was just me!"

They both let that sink in for a minute.

"So just to clarify," Jordan starts hesitantly, "you still love me?"

"Yes, and that's not going to ever change," Derek assures.

"But you like Stiles." Derek nods. "And, I like Stiles.”

"You do?" Derek asks, but Jordan just nods.

"I do. I realized after 'The Incident,' I know you call it that in your head, that I had all these feelings towards him that I didn't know what to do with. It's- it's gotten worse as he's gotten better since the doctor visits," Jordan admits quietly, and Derek rolls onto his side to throw an arm around his shoulders comfortingly.

"Don't get me started. He's gotten some definition in his shoulders, and I swear I nearly choked when he came up from working out in the basement without his shirt on."

Jordan rolls his eyes, "We're ridiculous. We move in with a guy and both end up liking him."

Derek quirks an eyebrow at him in question.

"Would you rather it was just one of us that likes him, and we were dealing with a jealous love triangle situation?"

Jordan's face screws up in disgust.

"Ew. No. But this does raise the question: what now?"

Derek rolls back over onto his back with a sigh.

"I don't know. We don't even know if he likes dudes let alone the two of us together."

"Well… shit."

**> >><<< **

Derek isn’t so sure he’s thinking straight. He got a call from Erica less than an hour ago that Jordan had been shot, and Derek was needed at the hospital. Before Derek knew the whole story, he’d called Stiles, too, both because Stiles deserved to know and Derek kind of needed someone there with him if things were as awful as Derek was imagining.

Derek got himself to the hospital and let his boss know that he’d be missing the last hour of his shift within minutes of Erica’s call. As he remembers the last time when he was here with Stiles and how well that situation turned out, Derek can’t help but feel hopeful that everything is going to be okay. It has to be okay. Jordan is- he’s a little shit, but he’s still _Derek’s,_ he’s still Derek’s person.

He stumbles blindly towards the nurse’s desk and gets directions to where Jordan has already been admitted and put in a room. Derek weaves his way through the hospital halls trying not to let his worry overwhelm him as he does. He passes a waiting room full of cops, and Erica walks right up to him and wraps him in a hug.

Oh god.

Erica’s hugging him; things must be horribly, _horribly_ wrong for this to be occurring.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone. Why didn’t you answer your phone so I could finish telling you to get to the hospital, but that _Jordan is fine._ He got grazed, but you didn’t let me finish and you didn’t answer when I called back, numb nuts.”

She punctuates the insult with a smack to the back of his head, and Derek feels a little dizzy.

Maybe that’s why she hugged him; he feels like his knees will buckle beneath him at any moment.

“Where is he?” Derek croaks, and wow, how long has his throat been so tight?

Erica gives him a look that’s a little too close to pity and points to the door across from the waiting room. Derek strides over there quickly before he does fall over and ends up leaning heavily against the doorframe as he looks in.

Jordan is fine. The little bastard is sitting up, smile on his face as he flirts harmlessly with the nurse checking his bandage. The bandage on the flesh wound on his arm. Because he only got grazed by the bullet. Derek is… getting close to being okay.  It takes another moment for Jordan to look over and see Derek standing in the doorway. When he does, his smile falls, and his brow furrows in concern as he reaches out like if he were allowed to get off the bed, he would be at Derek’s side.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Erica told you it was only a graze,” he says in confusion.

Derek just shakes his head and steps forward, all but collapsing in the chair that’s already next to Jordan’s bed and resting his forehead on Jordan’s thigh.

“Just knew you were shot,” Derek forces out after taking a deep breath, and Jordan’s fingers start to drag through his hair soothingly. “Didn’t know it was only a graze.”

“Babe, I’m okay. I’m sorry for what you just went through, but I promise I’m okay.” Jordan basically shushes him, but it helps Derek relax anyway, so he nods and just takes a few more deep breaths.

Eventually, Derek feels like the ground is solid beneath him once again and he’s able to sit normally, breathing calm as Jordan laughs through another examination.

Turns out that while he was only grazed by the bullet, he’d been knocked to the ground and hit his head pretty hard. They’re observing him for signs of a concussion more than anything as the wound on his arm is superficial at best.

Soon enough, they’re joking around with a nurse as Jordan undergoes the last of his evaluations. Derek’s still sitting next to the bed, back to the door, when the nurse looks from Jordan to the doorway, her smile falling.

“Are you okay?” she asks hurriedly as she rushes around the bed towards the door.

Derek turns and sees an ashen-faced Stiles looking seconds from collapsing on the floor. Derek jumps up out of his chair to help the nurse as Stiles’ knees buckle. Derek’s there to catch him before he can hit the floor though, and the nurse’s mouth is turned down in a concerned frown.

“I’m getting a gurney for him.”

Derek just shakes his head though as he scoops Stiles into his arms and walks back towards his chair.

“Hold off on that for a minute.”

The nurse doesn’t look happy, but she follows and starts a superficial examination as Derek settles back in the chair with Stiles across his lap, his head tucked under Derek’s chin. She presses fingers to Stiles throat and watches her watch, checking his pulse.

“M’fine,” Stiles mumbles as he takes a deep breath and tries to lift his head.

“You are not fine,” the nurse says disapprovingly, “your pulse is all over the place.”

“And you look like shit,” Derek says without any heat, but Stiles raises his head to glare at him.

“You would too if you had a panic attack in the middle of the grocery store,” he says with as much anger as he can put into his still shaky voice.

The nurse frowns more somehow and stands up assessing the young man before her. She watches him sigh and relax into Derek’s hold and nods to herself.

“I’m going to get you something to drink and eat.” She fixes Derek with a stern look then. “Don’t let him get up or leave.”

Derek nods and assures her he won’t.

Stiles for his own part seems to be putting a lot of effort into taking slow even breaths, and Derek rubs his hand up and down his back in an effort to help him stay calm. Jordan’s been watching, looking concerned the whole time but unable to get out of the bed, his lunch tray in the way and his arm still hooked up to a basic saline IV. He knows better than to rip it out, but the look on his face suggests to Derek that he’d really like to in order to be able to help comfort Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Stiles croaks softly, lifting his head from Derek’s shoulder to look at Jordan.

Jordan gives Derek a half-hearted glare before his expression softens and he looks back at Stiles.

“I’m fine,” he stresses. “Derek didn’t get the full story and therefore, didn’t pass along the full story. I was grazed, not shot. What’s important now is if you’re okay.”

Stiles grimaces and leans back again, his eyes closed as he sags further into Derek’s hold.

“No, but I will be now that I know you’re not dying.”

Derek adjusts his hold on Stiles and tries not to read too much into Stiles’ words. He knows it’s normal to be concerned for the safety of people. Whether they’re your tenants, friends, or something more, most people are at least considerate enough to express concern. But a full blown panic attack? One that he’s obviously still trying to quash? It’s pretty obvious in his actions that Stiles has begun to care for the two of them.

He looks at Jordan and sees a reflection of what he’s feeling written all over Jordan’s face. Concern and affection are the most prominent but also contentment with how comfortable Stiles is in Derek’s arms, taking comfort from the both of them in different ways. They still don’t know how to approach their feelings for the man, but they’ve seen less and less that will indicate a bad reaction from Stiles.

After a few minutes, the nurse is back with a granola bar and a Mountain Dew that she forces into Stiles’ hands and continues getting Jordan ready to be discharged. As Stiles munches on the snack and sips at the drink, Jordan’s doctor comes in and officially pronounces him fit to be sent home. He catches sight of Stiles and tells Jordan and Derek not to let him drive home if he’s still feeling the after effects of the attack and that he’s going to need to sleep and rest in general to recover.

Once Jordan gets all the paperwork signed, they put Stiles between the two of them, and with Derek keeping an arm around his waist and Jordan holding his other hand, they walk out to Derek’s vehicle. Derek can’t help the hopeful feeling in his chest when Stiles doesn’t protest but leans into their touches. They get home that afternoon, and Derek herds both Jordan and Stiles into his and Jordan’s bed so he can take care of them both. Stiles protests weakly initially, but Jordan tugs him down and within minutes Stiles is asleep. Which leaves Derek and Jordan to quietly discuss what they’re going to do about their growing affections for their landlord and friend.

**> >><<< **

Stiles comes home from running errands looking forward to collapsing on the couch and sleeping off the headache that he’s had since he woke up. Instead, he comes home to a disaster. Well, his kitchen is a disaster, and Jordan is the reason behind it. Stiles would watch in amusement for at least a moment because it’s pretty funny how frantically Jordan is trying to pull together whatever he’s making.

But the potatoes are boiling over, the cast iron skillet has grease popping out of it, the oven just dinged to signal the timer is done, and Jordan is at the sink running his hand under cold water. There are ingredients all along the counter, open and strewn about. Stiles thinks he sees the makings of a chocolate cake, from scratch, so to top off the mess, there’s cake batter splattered all across the cupboards as the bowl spins to a stop on the floor.

Stiles walks right to the stove; he needs to contain the potatoes if he ever hopes to get his stovetop clean again.

“What in the world are you doing?” he asks as he gets in the kitchen and Jordan yelps and turns around spraying water as he does.

“You’re here. Oh God. Thank _God._ How do you and Derek do this?? I don’t think I’ve managed to get anything right.”

Stiles snorts as he turns the heat down on the potatoes and the empty skillet. He grabs the hot pads and slides the asparagus out of the oven and into the warming drawer. He surveys the mess and what’s been cooked and what’s left to be cooked. Apart from being too big of an undertaking for someone who only really makes mac ‘n’ cheese well, Jordan didn’t do half bad.

“You haven’t ruined anything either,” Stiles reassures him and walks over to check wherever he burned himself. “Why don’t you tell me the plan, and I’ll help guide you through so you can finish.”

Jordan’s shoulders sag in relief as he leans forward to hug Stiles briefly. He pulls back and looks at Stiles pleadingly.

“That, would be the best thing ever. I wanted to make dinner for Derek. So there’s mashed potatoes, baked asparagus, bacon, steak, gravy, and some fruit that I haven’t decided on yet. And then I saw this chocolate cake recipe from Paula Dean that instead of frosting has chocolate gravy on top that I just know Derek will love. But I just- I got…”

He trails off and gestures at the kitchen.

“Overwhelmed,” Stiles finishes with a nod. “You haven’t ruined anything, but there’s still a lot to do. Do you want me to tell you how or do you want me to help you?”

Jordan shakes his head.

“I think if you just tell me what to do I can do this. I want to do this.”

Stiles smiles and claps Jordan on the shoulder, ignoring the funny feeling in his chest.

“How much time do we have?”

Jordan says they have an hour before Derek will be home, and Stiles breathes out a sigh in relief. He can work with an hour. They work through all the different pieces of the meal. Mashing the potatoes, cleaning up the mess of cake batter and other random spills, and getting the cake in the oven are first priority. Once they have the potatoes on the warmer, the bacon crispy, and the table set, all that’s left is to cook the steak, make the frosting for dessert, and get things ready to make the gravy.

Jordan does fairly well all things considered. Stiles steps in a couple times, helping him clean, making sure the potatoes don’t have any chunks, and getting as much batter they can into a smaller cake pan. As Jordan watches what’s cooking on the stove, Stiles sets the table for two.

Jordan had said he was making dinner for Derek, and Stiles doesn’t want to ruin what is obviously meant to be a nice dinner between the couple. Plus, he can honestly say his head hurts bad enough now that he doesn’t have an appetite. He watches over everything as Jordan runs upstairs to change and wash up minutes before Derek is due to arrive.

He dips a finger in the gravy to make sure it’s not too salty, tests to see that asparagus hasn’t gone soggy, and checks the cake with a toothpick when the timer goes off and takes it out of the oven to cool. By the time Jordan comes stomping back down the stairs, Stiles can hear the garage door opening, signaling Derek’s arrival. The last thing Stiles does before he goes up to his bed is uncork a bottle of wine he knows is going to go perfectly with the rich meal.

Jordan is sufficiently distracted as he plates up the meal that Stiles makes his escape without making it awkward. Through all the testing of what Jordan had cooked, Stiles feels full enough to wait until Derek and Jordan are done with their meal together to come back down for a full meal of his own. With his headache and loss of appetite, he mostly just wants to rest.

As he crawls into his bed, slipping between cold sheets, he tries not to think about how nice he’d felt sandwiched between his two housemates after Jordan had been shot. He mostly avoids thinking about it because he just doesn’t know how to categorize his feelings for them. And right now, trying to do so would take more effort than it’s worth. He thinks he can hear Derek’s happy exclamations over the meal as he drifts off, and it makes him fall asleep with a smile on his lips.

**> >><<< **

Derek and Jordan are pouting.

It should be a normal Friday night for them; they went out for dinner and now they’re watching a movie with plans to spend the whole weekend together. They’re sitting on the couch, Derek tucked under Jordan’s arm in the middle of the couch as they watch an old episode of _The Office_.

But instead of laughing along, they’re both glancing at the empty spot on the couch every few minutes.

Grown men pouting because their crush isn’t there to spend the weekend with them.

Stiles had a meeting early this morning and has been gone since Wednesday to spend a few days in San Francisco. They understand why; he needs to check up on things with his company. While Stiles might not be involved in day to day operations, he still keeps up with what happens with his company and on this trip wanted more time to visit people and deal with any problems. The board meeting was this morning, and Derek and Jordan are expecting him to come home tomorrow morning or afternoon.

Which is why it’s a surprise when, as they’re still sitting there (still pouting) watching Netflix, they hear the garage door open and shut. Derek looks up at Jordan with a happy smile only for Jordan to roll his eyes fondly at him. Derek sits up when he hears Stiles’ car door shut, and then, they both jump when the door to the house slams loudly shut.

They exchange a look at hearing Stiles angrily muttering to himself and both turn to face him as he walks in the room. Derek frowns when he sees Stiles come up the hallway into the room; Stiles looks _livid_.

“Oh good, you’re still up,” Stiles says finally, “we’re getting drunk.”

Derek watches confused as Jordan scrambles up from the couch to follow Stiles into the kitchen quickly. Derek doesn’t know what the rush is for, Stiles is an adult, and if he wants to drink in his house, he has every right to. Still, he follows behind only to see Stiles drinking the whiskey straight from the bottle, _gulping_ it down. Jordan is right there though, swiping the liquor away when Stiles lowers it to cough and take a breath.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Jordan snaps as he walks away from Stiles over to the cupboard with the glasses in it. “You know you’re a lightweight. You’ll get drunk quick enough as it is you don’t need to guzzle it from the bottle.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything in response, seeming to sway in place as the burn fades and the alcohol rushes to his head. Derek just walks over and guides him to a chair at the kitchen table.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong, and we’ll see about letting you have another glass?”

Stiles’ face darkens in his anger as he stares at the table in front of him.

“Meddling kids,” Stiles mutters under his breath, and Jordan snorts.

“The Scooby gang caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been doing down in San Fran?”

“No,” Stiles snaps, clearly not in a joking mood. “My _friends_ decided that instead of asking about my personal life they would just take it over and set me up with my ex from college.”

Jordan shuts up fast and sits at the table with the bottle and three glasses across from Derek, so they’re bracketing Stiles at the head of the table.

Stiles sighs, his anger ebbing a little as he leans back in his chair, leaving his hands splayed out on the table in front of him.

“I think they meant well, but…none have them have talked to me much since I moved up here. And I get it, I handed a company over to them, they’re busy. But you’d think they’d have asked…I mean if they thought I’ve been up here all by myself this whole time then yes, I might have appreciated the effort to help me meet someone. But, they didn’t even _ask._ They don’t know about you guys.”

He pauses to shake his head, and Derek glances at Jordan to see him watching with rapt attention, having capped the bottle of whiskey leaving the glasses empty.

“And of all people,” Stiles enthuses, working himself up again. “Seriously. Fuck, if I never see Theo Raeken again it will be too soon.”

“I take it the breakup wasn’t amicable?” Derek hedges gently, and Stiles huffs a laugh but it holds no humor.

“Unless you consider blackmail and a restraining order amicable no, no it wasn’t.”

Derek’s trying to overcome all kinds of shock. First off, _Stiles likes guys. This is the best news ever._ Second, his last relationship ended in a restraining order? What kind of trauma did Stiles have to live through before that was justified? He’s heard of bad break ups, but he’s never known someone in real life to have ended a relationship with a restraining order. He must not hide it well because Stiles kind of shrinks in on himself as he continues when neither he nor Jordan say anything.

“We met in a bar; mutual snarky assholes and a little bit of alcohol meant I went home with him. We slept together a couple times before I told him I wasn’t into casual sex, didn’t really like sex with him period, and his response was to send me a video he’d taken of us one night and threaten to send it to the press. He said he knew who I really was and how much the paparazzi would pay for some dirt on me.”

Stiles sighs and drags a hand down his face, like he wishes he could just wipe all of this away and not have to deal with it. Derek shifts his legs a little so he can press his calf against Stiles’; he can’t reach out and hold his hand with how separate Stiles is holding himself, but he has to offer reassurance somehow.

“Look, I’m not ashamed of who I am. I just didn’t feel like announcing to the world that I’m bisexual by having a sex tape released with me and another guy would be the best thing. So I paid him off, verified that he deleted the video and yes, used my company to register for a restraining order against him. Lydia and Jackson didn’t know any of this. And then when they met Theo in a bar, they obviously thought we’d get along together because of some minor similar tendencies to be a jerk with no filter.”

“I just,” Stiles continues, hand tightening into a fist on the table like he’d rather be pounding on it, “the trip had been going so well. I didn’t have to fire anyone. There were no complaints against the company, everyone has been behaving themselves, and better. We’re still making money and growing and maintaining our existing contracts. And then…”

“Theo,” Jordan fills in, and when Derek looks over at him, he sees that Jordan is having to hide some excitement just like Derek is.

_Stiles is bisexual. Stiles likes guys._

“Gah, if I never see that smug little bastard again my life will be successful. And then,” Stiles exclaims working himself up yet again, “then, the rest of them get all upset because I basically said ‘fuck you’ and left without an explanation to them. Like they suddenly care that I’m alone even though I haven’t gotten so much as a text message from any of them since the last meeting!”

“Besides,” he continues, calming down again, “I’m not alone. I’ve got you guys, right?”

They watch Stiles sigh and lean back in his chair again as he rubs at his eyes, showing how tired he really is. Derek would be too if he kept putting himself through this rollercoaster of emotions.

“For now at least,” he corrects himself with a sad look as he stands up. “I guess we’re not getting drunk. I’m going to bed.”

“We’ll be here tomorrow if you want to, uh, talk again. Or if you’d rather a distraction we can uh, do that too,” Derek offers, and Stiles nods before walking away.

Jordan waits for the sound of Stiles’ bedroom door closing before he turns to Derek wide eyed and worried.

“What do you think he meant? ‘For now at least?’ Do you think he’s thinking of asking us to leave?”

Derek shakes his head and stands to round the table when Jordan stands up. He pulls Jordan into a hug; if Stiles was thinking of kicking them out, and before they got to possibly share their feelings for him, he’d be a little panicky, too.

“No, I’d be willing to bet he thinks we’re going to leave eventually.”

Jordan nods, and Derek can’t help but think about their formerly peaceful, if unsatisfying evening that had been shattered by Stiles’ return home and subsequent venting session. Not that they’re not glad he came home, just that returning to the couch to watch more Netflix sounds highly unappealing knowing how distraught Stiles is crawling into his shower and later bed upstairs.

Derek separates himself from his embrace with Jordan and picks up the empty glasses. Jordan returns the whiskey to the liquor cabinet while Derek puts away the drinking glasses. They move around in silence, sending each other knowing glances of what they’re both thinking about. Now that they know Stiles’ preferences, they can maybe do something about all this built up affection for the man.

After they finish tidying in the living room and the kitchen, they both decide to turn in. They’re going to need their rest if they want to properly cheer Stiles up in the morning. Derek falls asleep listening to Jordan’s slow easy breathing, thinking about the breakfast he’s going to make and how they can ease Stiles into the idea of dating two people at once.

**> >><<< **

Derek has never really liked vacations. Sure, when he’s _on_ vacation, it’s nice and mostly relaxing. But the build up to it is always better than the actual time away. It’s probably because he always has high hopes of fully relaxing, and then, there’s always some interruption or some continuing worry about work from him or Jordan that spoils it just a little.

This vacation was no exception. His mom had allotted time at the family cabin for Derek and Jordan to take a vacation ages ago. This trip was organized and planned out even before they moved in with Stiles. Even still, the two weeks leading up to the retreat were filled with longer shifts, more planning, packing, and worrying about leaving Stiles behind. It was only after Stiles assured them both that he’d be fine, that a friend, Derek thinks he said Lydia, would be coming up for at least a couple of days and that they didn’t need to worry about him while they’re gone.

Still, it wasn’t easy to just drop it even as they flew out to Colorado and then drove to their cabin in the mountains. But, Derek had managed to put it out of his mind. After all, if Stiles needed them or missed them all he had to do was call or text. It’s not like their cell phones stop working; the cabin isn’t that remote. The week away ended up being really nice. Lots of quality time with Jordan, lots of rest and recreation, and the cabin has some of the most spectacular views to enjoy. And where Stiles may not have been physically present, he was definitely present in his and Jordan’s conversation.

While having Stiles come home from his meeting so visibly upset wasn’t the greatest, Derek and Jordan had had a hard time containing their excitement at finding out Stiles’ sexuality. It felt like just another step closer to becoming something other than just Jordan and Derek. They’d started with knowing Stiles was okay with homosexuality, right from the get go of moving in that had been clear. For a while, they thought Stiles might be asexual since it seemed that he never went out to meet and hook up with people.  But then the Theo issue happened, and they found out Stiles identifies as bisexual, and it just propelled them even further into their crush.

Now all that’s left is to find out just what Stiles’ feelings are on polyamorous relationships.

They have a plan for that though. After the post-vacation stress gets dealt with, they have plans to sit down with Stiles and just ask him straight out. It's probably long overdue, but it's what they have.

As expected, when they get home from the cabin, it's already late in the evening, and they're exhausted from their day of travel. Derek collapses in bed after dropping his bag in the laundry room, and Jordan lands with a thump right after him.

As it turns out, between opposite shifts, longer shifts to make up for lost hours during vacation, and getting everything resituated after a week away, it's almost three days before Derek even gets the chance to realize how weird it is that they haven't seen Stiles. It's a realization he comes to when he and Jordan are finally at home at the same time.

Jordan walks in, and Derek heads down the stairs from where he'd just finished putting away all their laundry from the trip. He looks up from his phone to kiss Jordan hello before looking right back down at it. It's been bugging him, niggling at the back of his mind, that he doesn't remember the last time he talked to Stiles, even just got a text from him. As he and Jordan walk down the hall, Derek tunes out whatever Jordan is saying in favor of pulling up Stiles' messages and looking at the date of the last one Stiles sent.

The “Hope you're having fun” text came through on their second day gone. A whole week without hearing from Stiles. Derek stops, and Jordan just keeps walking into the kitchen, apparently realizing he's being ignored for the moment. Derek turns on his heel and walks quickly back towards the door to the garage. He opens it and peers around. His and Jordan's vehicles are there as is Stiles' car. But that means- He rushes back into the house and seeks out Jordan.

"When was the last time you heard from Stiles?" he asks abruptly.

Jordan looks at him, puzzled, before it dawns on him.

"Before we left," he admits, and they take off in separate directions.

Derek checks the bedrooms upstairs while Jordan checks the first floor and the basement. They meet up again in the kitchen outside Stiles' workroom door. They just look at each other for a moment before Derek reaches out to the door knob. But Jordan reaches out and grabs his hand before he can open it.

“He asked us to never go in there,” he says quietly, and Derek shakes his head.

“I don’t care, we don’t know where he is. What if he’s hurt? What if he needed us, and we fucked off to Colorado?”

Jordan’s resolve crumbles easily, but he doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand.

“We try texting him one more time; if he doesn’t answer, we go in. Fair?”

Derek nods, and they both send off a text. Moments later they hear Stiles’ phone go off, behind the workroom door.

“Satisfied?” Derek asks, exasperation written all over his face at this point. Especially when Jordan shakes his head.

“Give him a chance to answer.”

Derek rolls his eyes and reaches for the door again.

“If he heard his phone but didn’t hear us yelling for him all over the house then we need to carry him out to an ear doctor,” he responds as he tries the door.

It’s locked. Jordan follows him quickly as he goes to the other door to the room, the one attaching it to the garage, and Derek’s pleased to see his hesitancy at invading Stiles’ personal space is finally being outweighed with concern for Stiles’ well-being.

For all they know about Stiles, they still haven’t been brought in on what Stiles does in his workroom. Derek has envisioned any number of possibilities. He’s thought about a computer cave where Stiles secretly still runs Stilinski Security. Jordan once told him he thought the space was just comfortably furnished with window seats, comfy couches and chairs so Stiles could read and edit books from comfort. But neither of them envisioned _this_.

As Derek opens the door and rushes in he stops abruptly at the sight before him.

Stiles is an artist. And not the hobbyist kind either. There are easels everywhere, paintings as big as Derek’s fist and paintings as big as Derek. There’s a table covered in charcoals and a large drawing pad. One space must be for sculpture even though all Derek can see is the raw clay at the moment. It has an air of a space that’s normally very neat and tidy that has been thrown into chaos through constant use. There’s a million different directions for him and Jordan to be looking, but it all fades away when Derek sees Stiles in the midst of his artworks.

He’s crumpled on the ground, looking small and helpless and so damn young as he lays there unconscious on the floor next to a ratty old couch.  Anger flares hot in Derek’s chest, and it sparks him into action. He basically runs past the paintings, drawings, empty water bottles and protein bar wrappers that are strewn across the floor to get to Stiles’ side. Jordan follows, and they’re both kneeling, one on either side. Jordan’s hands find Stiles’ shoulders while Derek’s cup Stiles’ face gently for a moment. Then, he’s pressing two fingers to Stiles’ throat while Jordan checks on his wrist until they both find a pulse and take a deep breath in.

Stiles’ heart is slow, but from the awkward sprawled position on the floor, Derek doesn’t think the sleep Stiles is having is natural. He had to have pushed himself to exhaustion Derek guesses given the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Derek, what do we do?” Jordan says breaking Derek from his thoughts on how long Stiles might have been like this. “Do we need to call an ambulance?”

“No,” he says hoarsely. “No, we’re going to take care of him,” he replies decisively.

He nods to himself and turns to gather Stiles’ slim frame into his arms. He stands easily and looks around. The open paint cans, the fumes, and the fact that the couch is tiny makes the decision for him.

“Grab some juice or a pop and some crackers, and meet me in the bedroom.”

It’s probably all they have for food left in the house anyway since they haven’t been grocery shopping since they got back and Stiles appears to have been in that room for the majority of the last week and a half. Derek easily carries Stiles up the staircase towards his and Jordan’s room. He’s got Stiles on the bed, a change of clothes pulled out of the laundry basket, and a warm cloth all ready by the time Jordan makes it upstairs.

“Help me get some of the paint off him?” Derek asks, and Jordan just nods as he puts the foodstuffs on the nightstand and crawls on the bed on Stiles’ other side.

They work in a tense silence as they strip Stiles of his shirt and start to wipe at the paint splatters they find. Derek doesn’t know what they’d do if Stiles had it in his hair, but as it is, they quickly get what they can washed away. Then, Jordan is there to help him wrestle Stiles’ uncooperative limbs into one of Derek’s warmest, softest shirts. Derek crawls up the bed and leans against the headboard behind Stiles.

Jordan helps him get Stiles propped up on Derek’s chest in the V of his legs before they start trying to bring Stiles back to consciousness. Until this point, Derek was sure Stiles was simply asleep. The way Stiles’ eyes have been moving behind his eyelids and his strong pulse corroborated that assumption. But, he’s still relieved when he wakes up after Jordan pinches his neck and shouts his name a couple times.

Derek lays Stiles’ head back on his shoulder so he can see his eyes flutter open as he makes his way back into awareness. Jordan certainly appears to be relieved by the slump of his shoulders and the way his features soften as he moves his hands to hold Stiles’ arms instead of his face.

“You’re back,” Stiles whispers, and Derek thinks he sees the beginnings of a weak smile in the little quirk at the edges of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Jordan breathes, his voice coming out as a laugh of relief. “Yeah, we’re back. We’ve been back, didn’t you hear us in the house the last couple of days?”

Stiles’ brow furrows in his obvious confusion as he tries to think.

“No? I don’t-“ he stops and tries to raise a hand to his face, but it falls back on the bed. “I don’t remember much from the last few days,” he mumbles.

Derek rubs his hand up and downs Stiles’ arm trying to keep him calm; they don’t need him panicking over anything compounding the trouble they’re in at the moment.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” he says calmly, and Jordan nods even as he reaches for the soda on the nightstand as if reading Derek’s mind.

“Let’s get some sugar in you right now, okay?” he goads, but Stiles just slumps back in his hold and nods weakly.

“Probably a, good idea,” he says with a labored breath.

Jordan helps hold the can up to Stiles lips as he takes small sips of the sugary drink and intersperses it with bites of saltine cracker.  Once Derek is comfortable that Stiles isn’t going to go into hypoglycemic shock he lays him gently back on the bed and they let him fall asleep looking far more peaceful than when they found him.

They both crawl off the bed and stand together at the foot of it looking at Stiles sleeping.

“I’m going to run and get some groceries,” Derek says quietly. “He should be fine now that we know his blood sugar levels are at least a little higher. Do you want to come with or stay?”

Jordan shakes his head quickly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Derek just smiles and tells him to text him with any requests or anything he thinks they need from the store. So Derek leaves, and Jordan hangs out in the bedroom before he realizes just staring at Stiles while he sleeps might be a little creepy. He shakes himself and leaves the room. He tries to clean and tidy around the house but finds himself checking on Stiles every ten minutes or so. It doesn’t make for very productive cleaning, but it means Jordan isn’t worrying too much about if Stiles is okay or not.

He texts Derek a couple times with things he thinks of that they need from the store; they need ice cream, and they’re out of frozen vegetables. And when he gets a text that Derek is on his way home, Jordan goes back to the bedroom to… do laundry.

He’s still a little freaked out, okay? Walking into Stiles’ workroom and seeing him crumpled on the floor sent a feeling of terror through him that’s not that easy to shake off that quickly. He spends a few minutes putting away all the freshly washed clothes from the trip before he just gives up and settles at the foot of the bed. He sits cross-legged and messes around on his phone, responding to a couple of texts from work and scrolling through twitter.

He hears the sound of the garage door opening and closing and then the sharp sound of the door to the house shutting. He jumps a little and nearly misses the way Stiles jerks wide awake.

Jordan stares as Stiles sits up and looks around; he’s a thousand times more coherent, his eyes focusing on things as his gaze darts around the room.

“What- what am I doing in your bed?” he finally asks, looking at Jordan with adorable confusion. “When did you get home?”

Jordan can’t hold back as he leans forward and kisses Stiles quiet.

He pulls back after the brief press of lips, and Stiles’ eyes are wide.

“Whoa,” he breathes, and Jordan resists the urge to laugh. “Am I still dreaming?” Stiles looks down at his hands and presumably starts to count his fingers. “Did I finally huff enough fumes to be hallucinating?”

Jordan does laugh then and scoots closer on the bed to be sitting next to Stiles.

“You’re not hallucinating, or dreaming.”

Stiles moves easily when Jordan pulls him back to lay against him and the headboard.

“But you just kissed me; why would you kiss me? I’m not your boyfriend.”

“You can be if you want to,” Derek says as he enters the room.

Stiles makes an abortive move to shift out of Jordan’s arms, but Derek waves him to stop and slides in the bed on the other side of Stiles, sandwiching him between the two of them.

“I mean, ideally we’d both like to date you,” Derek continues with a smile, “I don’t think this is a pick one or the other type arrangement though so-“

“If you’re okay with it, we’d really like to be your boyfriends,” Jordan finishes.

Stiles leans back against the headboard, letting his head drop back and his eyes close. Derek and Jordan look at each other, not quite nervous by the non-response but not encouraged either. It takes just another moment before Stiles speaks.

“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

“We’re sure,” Derek and Jordan say in unison.

“So, since it’s been awhile since I’ve dated one person, can we maybe talk about how dating the both of you will work? I mean, besides being pretty awesome.”

**> >><<< **

“Well this is fun,” Stiles says sarcastically.

The three of them are all dressed up, Stiles in a grey suit, Jordan in blue, and Derek in black. They’re in some fancy restaurant in San Francisco having supper together before Stiles’ first collection showing. They’re supposed to be relaxing and having a nice date together before Stiles goes into full stress mode at the gallery, but the cameras flashing through the restaurant window between each bite have him stressed already.

Derek reaches a hand out to hold Stiles’, and Jordan places one reassuringly on his knee so it stops bouncing. He gives them a small smile and tries to go back to his meal.

It’s been three months since Stiles pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion while the other two were on vacation. It’s been three months of dating each other and very little has changed in their day to day life. They spend a lot more time intertwined on the couch all together than they did before, and they’ve been slowly approaching more involved bedroom activities.

Derek is still a park ranger, Jordan is still a cop, and Stiles has been painting more than even when he was in college. In school Stiles had made a name for himself with his art thanks to a professor who submitted his art to a couple different galleries. No one knew, not even his friends, because he’d decided to put his birth name as the creator of the pieces and not his nickname.

“Maksym” is just as unrecognizable as “Stiles,” but this way Stiles had the choice of whether or not people knew who he was in regards to his art. Tonight is the unveiling of his first collection, but he’s still only going as a viewer. Derek and Jordan, ever supportive, told him in no uncertain terms that they were coming with and making a weekend of it.

So, now they’re trying to eat their meal and ignore the paparazzi outside. Stiles re-emerging into society with not one but two boyfriends caused something of an uproar for the people concerned with celebrities, even the minor ones.

Derek orders dessert, and Stiles is at his breaking point; he was already stressed and having to deal with the constant camera flashes has given him a headache. This was supposed to be a nice night out, and now he’s cranky.

“I need a minute,” he says tersely as he stands and throws his napkin on his seat.

Derek reaches out and grabs his hand to stop him, and Stiles lets him.

“Just don’t break their cameras, otherwise, give them hell,” Derek says with a smirk before kissing the back of Stiles’ hand.

Stiles is blushing as he approaches the door, but he hardens his features so he looks as seriously pissed as he feels. The doorman opens the door with a curious look, but Stiles gives him a nod in thanks as he steps outside.

No one takes his picture.

“You’ve gotten enough pictures for the evening,” he announces, voice loud and carrying across the small crowd of people standing there watching him. “And when you submit the photos you’ve taken you’re going to use the words ‘polyamorous relationship.’ If I find one article with the word threesome, I will track you down and have you blacklisted in the industry.”

Stiles quite enjoys the way their eyes widen in surprise. Because they have to know that the company he is still the CEO of has more than enough resources to make good on the threat he just made.

“Now let me eat my dessert in peace. Leave.”

He finishes strong, and Stiles is pleased to see them all turn and scatter. It’s gratifying as he walks back into the restaurant and sits back down at the table that Derek and Jordan are staring at him with matching amused expressions.

“Feel better?” Jordan asks, and Stiles nods as the waiter brings their dessert sampler to the table.

“Yeah, I really am.”

Derek snorts at Stiles’ smug expression, but Stiles can’t feel bad about it.

He is spending his time doing something he finds joy in. He’s about to share the art he’s been working on for the last year with anyone who wants to see it. He is living comfortably from money that he worked his ass off to earn from Stilinski Security. He is in a serious relationship with two wonderful, supportive, and kind people.

Stiles may have not had the easiest life so far. But life right now is definitely better than anything he could have imagined he’d get to experience.

>>>><<<<

**Author's Note:**

> The warning is for a part where Jordan thinks his words in an argument drove Stiles to attempt suicide. This is not the case at all it's just where his mind jumped to. 
> 
> I really like this one so I hope y'all liked it too! Let me know what you think of it :) 
> 
> Talk to me on [Tumblr](http://www.acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Largely inspired by this post [X](http://www.acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/108766554324/everbright-mourning-so-someone-write-me-that/)


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